


life as a tree house extension

by kellifer_fic



Series: tree house [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Domestic, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, M/M, accidental feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellifer_fic/pseuds/kellifer_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, it turns out Tony isn't exactly sure what to do with a whole bunch of Avengers once he has them all under one roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	life as a tree house extension

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to science and to the patent process.

"We're not in a relationship."

It's probably not the best thing to blurt right after someone has swallowed you down like a champion and then you've both come, hard, fast and messy on each other's stomachs. Tony has one hand gripped around them both and Steve one hand dug deep in Tony's hair. It’s the best kind of orgasm too; the one that takes you completely by surprise like a baseball bat to the back of the head in a dark alleyway.

It’s _spectacular_.

Right after that of course, Tony's brain reboots and starts feeding him data on what a monumental fuckup he is in all things, including this because you can’t just sleep with people like Captain America.

Hence, the blurting.

"We're not in a relationship," Tony says again because it bears repetition. "You know that...these days this doesn't mean...not officially but we should rectify that or something? Am I making sense?"

Tony knows with the benefit of hindsight that he should have had this conversation with Steve _before_ the sex.

Steve pulls back, hair mussed and trousers hanging open in an obscene way and he hasn't said a thing, just kind of looks guilty. “I’m not saying that this... I mean you probably just assumed that we were... it just doesn’t work like that these days without some kind of conversation and-” Tony continues to babble.

“I meant to talk to you about this before... before...” Steve kind of gestures at them both, at the general level of their disarray. He’s still looking guilty.

“Yeah, me too,” Tony says quickly, because Steve’s expression is really not what he’d been expecting. He was thinking he would get amusement, maybe a little exasperation. Not this careful kind of frown. “We don’t have to exchange rings or anything, just, y’know, maybe tell some people even though I know Clint and Natasha will already-”

“Tony,” Steve snaps and he sounds pained. There’s the exasperation Tony was waiting for, but it’s not the good kind. Tony winces when it sounds like the way Howard would say his name when Tony was a little too desperate for his attention. “Tony, I’ve been meaning to say that I don’t think this can work.”

Tony blinks, manic grin slowly sliding off his face. Usually he sees this coming because even though Pepper tells him time and again that he’s too self-absorbed, locked in his own little Tony-world, he’s well aware when he fucks up with other people. He’s not always sure when he’s done the right thing, but he can definitely pinpoint the exact moment he’s done the wrong one.

There is no exact moment here.

Like he’s read his mind, Steve says all earnest and forthright, “It’s nothing you’ve done.”

“Is it something I haven’t done?” Tony asks, bewildered, hoping that it doesn’t sound like he’s begging. The sweat is still cooling on his skin, his shirt is pushed up under his armpits and jeans hanging off one leg. There’s no real way to put himself back together delicately so he just does it as quickly and efficiently as possible when Steve backs up off him and tugs his own pants back together.

“Of course not,” Steve says, talking into his chest because he’s still occupied with doing up his belt and not looking Tony in the eye. His pants are a mess, no way they’re going to be able to pass in decent company but then all Steve has to do is go upstairs because he lives here now. “I just... I think it’s best we... I’ve been thinking about it and before we get too involved...”

Tony’s still just watching Steve, running hands through his ruined hair, then dry-washing his face. “I mean, you know I’m right?” Steve still looks ridiculously solid and dependable and lovely while trying to let Tony down gently. 

Tony wants to get angry, wants to demand Steve tell him what’s different, what could have possibly happened to make Steve suddenly _change his mind_ because Tony knows, despite what Steve’s saying, the way he’s acting, that he has. Something’s happened that’s made Steve back the hell up, reassess the situation and decide that...

Tony wasn’t worth it.

Fuck that.

“Right, yeah, before we get attached,” Tony says quickly, nodding so hard that it’s surprising his head doesn’t pop off and roll across the workshop floor.

“No it’s not... geez Tony, I’m _attached_ to you,” Steve says and Tony swallows, thinks maybe he’s been misunderstanding what Steve’s been saying, that Steve isn’t trying to unceremoniously dump him after a hasty mutual hand job except, “I just think that the whole relationship, _us_ , isn’t a good idea. There’s too many... variables.”

“Variables,” Tony repeats. Swallows again to make sure that his voice doesn’t come out weak and wavering when he says, “Yeah, of course, totally agree.”

“You do?” Steve says and Tony thinks maybe he looks disappointed for a second but the expression closes down fast and instead there’s a weirdly tight relief. “No, great, that’s _great_. So we’re good, we can still-?”

“Absolutely,” Tony says, wants to get Steve out of his workshop before he does something undignified like throw a spanner at Steve’s head. He turns away from Steve, to the chaos of his workbench and Dummy waggling a worried claw at him. “We’re good.”

“Okay then,” Steve says brightly to the back of Tony’s head. “Um, you’re sure-?”

“I’ve got work,” Tony says, staring hard at the workbench, trying to will something he can pick up and start tinkering with to jump out at him but there’s nothing. The last four weeks he’s been a little... occupied and he hasn’t really been down in the workshop. He’d only come down today because Darcy had asked him to tweak her taser.

He picks it up idly, thinks it might be poor form to tase Steve right after he’s told him he’s fine.

“Sure, I’ll leave you to it,” Steve says and does, the sound of his boots clomping up the stairs and back through the house making Tony’s head hurt.

*

“Hey, have you seen... Eduardo!” Clint yelps, sounding horrified and darting forward. Tony supposes it looks bad considering Eduardo’s sitting in the middle of his workbench, surrounded by parts.

“Relax, he’s fine,” Tony says distractedly. Eduardo tries to lift off the workbench but the first thing Tony did was disable his repulsors so Eduardo is reduced to hop-jumping across the surface until he fetches up against Tony’s elbow. “Most of this isn’t from him.”

“Exterminate,” Eduardo says plaintively and Tony’s a little impressed that the Dalek has managed to make one word communicate so many things.

Clint punches Tony in the arm, _hard_. The whole thing goes numb and he drops the soldering iron he was holding. “Ow, Jesus,” he barks as he starts getting pins and needles racing through the deadened limb. He flexes his hand in and out of a fist as Clint darts around him and scoops up Eduardo, making a noise of protest when he finds the Dalek connected to a whole bunch of wires. 

“Calm down you insane person,” Tony gripes, taking Eduardo back after a small struggle that wouldn’t make either of them look very good to an outside observer. There’s a bit of shoving, shin kicking and some biting. “I’m improving him.”

Clint releases the chunk of Tony’s forearm he had in his mouth and raises an eyebrow. “This better be good.”

“I got the idea when I was watching cartoons with Thor.”

“Thor watches... wait, no, that makes perfect sense actually,” Clint says, smirking. 

“There was one with this little yellow... squirrel thing that could electrocute people. I just thought it would be cool if Eduardo could defend himself and you if he needed to,” Tony says.

“Wait, are you talking about Pokemon?”

“I’m not even surprised that you know that,” Tony says dryly and Clint shrugs, then his face goes shrewd.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, why?” Tony says, setting Eduardo aside.

“You’ve been down here for three days and you only feel the need to do this kind of thing when you’re pissed about something.”

“I don’t... there is no way you could know that,” Tony says.

“You made Natasha a new energy glove when you and Pepper had a fight about that stunt you pulled in midtown and you shut yourself in Bruce’s lab when Fury got on your ass about destroying the UAVs. I’m actually surprised that Steve-” Tony’s face must do something incriminating because Clint stops mid sentence and his eyes go tight and worried. “Oh man, why is Steve sparring with Natasha right now and not already down here pestering you to come back to the land of the living?”

“I have no idea, why don’t you ask him,” Tony says, tightly.

“What did you do?” Clint asks.

“What did _I_ do?” Tony splutters but when Clint just looks at him steadily, Tony groans and drops his head onto his worktable. “I have no idea.”

“Do you want me to-?”

“God no,” Tony says, snapping his head up.

“You don’t even know what I was going to offer,” Clint says, plaintive.

“I don’t need to,” Tony says. 

Clint slings an arm across Tony’s shoulders. “Want to come over to my place? It’s Margarita Monday.”

“Even though you live in a tree house, it’s in my backyard so it’s still technically _my_ place,” Tony grumbles as Clint manhandles him up off his stool.

“Semantics,” Clint huffs. “Unhook Eduardo and... is that Darcy’s taser?”

“It was.”

“Wow, she is going to _kill_ you.”

*

“A patent is the grant of a temporary monopoly to the patentee and at its expiration all are free to use the... blah, blah, boring, boring,” Tony groans, sinking further down into his chair and letting the paperwork, ugh _hard copies_ , slip from his hands and onto the floor. Pepper drums her fingers on her desk, smiling sympathetically.

“It’s really up to the courts,” she says.

“They can’t just steal-”

“Basically, the purpose of awarding a technological patent monopoly is to stimulate invention. SHIELD can argue here that a patent monopoly shouldn’t be granted because these inventions would be made without those inducements.”

“They can’t make them without my _brain_.”

“We’d only be able to get a monopoly for seventeen to twenty years regardless.”

“I want Fury to have to wait the twenty years. That would make that little vein in his forehead throb the way I like.”

“Tony, I can pursue this, but do we really want to?” Pepper asks, gently. “I know its hard to remember sometimes, but these are the good guys.”

“They’re scared kids wanting a big stick because they have a bully living on the next block,” Tony argues. “Even good people make bad decisions when they’re scared.”

“You’ve got to admit that they have a point,” Pepper says. “We _are_ woefully unprepared if we’re attacked by... anyone really.”

“You just don’t want us to be the front line, admit it,” Tony says, grinning when Pepper ducks her face at his pointed finger. He sometimes wishes she hadn’t figured out quite so fast that she was too good for him. He knows she would have come to that conclusion eventually, but he’d kind of been enjoying her being ignorant of it. Their split, or more accurately, their continental drift apart was as inevitable as the tides.

Tony is just glad that for once in his life he _was_ able to do the right thing and let go before either of them reached a resentful place. They aren’t quite as close as they’d been before but they're getting there, Pepper patient and Tony restrained to try and make the way easier.

“I admit nothing,” she says crisply but she's fighting a helpless but exasperated smile. They still have arguments about his special brand of recklessness, about her concern for all of them, especially the more fragile of their group. 

Tony knows for Pepper to take him seriously, he needs to be honest. “I made a decision not to manufacture weapons for a reason.”

“Tony, the Iron Man suit-”

“Pep, please tell me you understand the difference,” Tony implores, sees the way her face softens because she _does_ , of course she does.

“I know you’re used to being able to throw money at a problem-”

“I’m throwing you at the problem,” Tony says. “Much more efficient but about as expensive as throwing actual money.” He grins at her, waits for her to break and roll her eyes which she does, huffing and standing, smoothing hands down an already immaculately wrinkle-free skirt.

“How’s Steve?” Pepper asks as Tony stands as well, formalities apparently over. 

“Uh, fine,” Tony says, caught off guard although he knows he shouldn’t be. It’s Pepper after all.

“Natasha told me-”

“Ugh, please. I’m not crying into my pillow at night and writing tearful entries in my diary. We bumped uglies, then stopped bumping them. Do you _really_ want to talk about this?”

“I want to make sure you’re okay, which obviously you’re not but if you’re at the crass stage of your relationship grief then I can’t help you yet,” Pepper says gently. 

“What are you talking about, woman?”

“I see I already missed the tinkering stage. I like that stage. You’re much nicer in that stage.”

“You’re scaring me a little.”

“Just... call me before you get to the drunk and destructive stage.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony says breezily, ignores the sad eyes Pepper’s giving him. 

“At least it’s not only you and Jarvis in that big house now,” Pepper huffs, low enough that Tony thinks he wasn't supposed to hear it.

*

That’s the problem though, it _isn’t_ just JARVIS and him in the house. There’s loads of people now, a virtual Brady Bunch of souls that pop out at him at every turn. His only sanctuary is his workshop and even that’s invaded when Darcy finds out he’s stripped her taser to give Eduardo his little boost.

“You’re just lucky you’re heartbroken right now,” Darcy says to him, poking him in the nose with an accusatory finger. 

“I’m not-” Tony starts to deny, takes in just how _murderous_ Darcy is looking and changes gear. “Yes, completely and awfully heartbroken, absolutely.”

He ends up being thoroughly hugged instead of thoroughly punched which Tony counts as a win.

Despite how big the house is, Tony is still a little surprised that the only person he isn’t running into is Steve, _at all_. Steve seems to be avoiding him, so successfully that Tony suspects Clint-like traversing of the space between walls and over roofs. There's only one working kitchen in the mansion and with Steve’s metabolism and Tony's caffeine addiction, they should cross paths at least three to four times a day.

Tony is willing to try and have a stilted, semi-awkward friendship but it seems that Steve isn't.

“Want me to put on the Hulk feet?” Bruce offers when he finds Tony nursing a scotch in the living room, watching Con Air.

“It’s no fun if you’re awake and, y'know, aware of it,” Tony says automatically, then frowns. “Why would you think I would need cheering up anyway?”

“Nicholas Cage movie, dead giveaway.”

“Ugh, would people stop analyzing my habits?” Tony says. “It’s starting to make me uncomfortable.”

“Oh my god, Nicholas Cage movie, what happened?” Jane asks, entering the living room, tugging Thor behind her as Tony groans and smacks a hand over his face.

“Steve broke up with Tony,” Darcy supplies, trailing them.

“What?” Jane says, face falling, then she turns and smacks Thor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is Tony’s news to impart how he wishes,” Thor says, frowning and Tony holds up his scotch at the Asgardian.

“See, that’s what manners look like, people,” Tony says. “Gold star, Thor.”

Thor grins, jostles Jane with his elbow and Jane snorts.

“He’s not actually giving you anything hon,” Jane says, patting Thor on the shoulder.

“Not true!” Tony chirps, pushes off the couch and crosses to the other side of the room to unearth a medium-sized whiteboard from behind the entertainment unit. “I’ve decided you people need some kind of way to be controlled.”

“With stickers?” Darcy asks, incredulously but as she approaches the board, her eyes grow wide. “Wait, are those scratch and sniff?”

“Yep, lemon and strawberry. You have to be _really_ good to get the chocolate.”

“I didn’t even know they made those any... is that a _fuzzy dinosaur_?”

“Indeed it is,” Tony says smugly. He plucks a gold star off the strip hanging from the whiteboard and smacks it next to Thor’s name, written in green marker, affixing it more firmly with a slap of his flat palm. 

“What do we get?” Jane throws herself on the couch next to Bruce and hooks her arms over the back. 

“Apart from the sticker?” Tony asks, smacking Darcy’s wandering hand away from the strip of dinosaurs. “Different things.”

“I want an Eduardo,” Jane says. “Except cute and fuzzy and maybe not a Dalek.”

“That’ll cost you,” Tony says, grinning. 

“I will impart my golden star to-”

“Hey, no,” Tony interrupts. “No trading.”

“Spoilsport,” Jane grumbles. “Who made you king of the stickers anyway?”

“You can apply to have a sticker allocated to another member of the household,” Tony says magnanimously. “I’m not a sticker dictator.”

“A sticktator?” Darcy prompts, eyes bright.

“If you had any stickers I would take them off you for that.”

“May I request to gift Jane with a-?”

“No, Thor, you don’t get to give Jane any stickers. There’s coercion involved.”

“Steve isn’t on the list,” Bruce pipes up.

“Oh, really?” Tony says, swallowing. “I might have missed-”

“Even Eduardo is on here. You can't leave Steve off,” Darcy says, pokes Tony in the shoulder. 

“He wouldn’t want anything from me,” Tony says, could swear he hears Bruce mutter, _Don’t be so sure about that_ , but when he looks at Bruce, he’s got his glasses off and is rubbing them vigorously with his t-shirt, not meeting Tony’s gaze. While Tony’s distracted, Darcy makes short work of patting him down, comes up with a pen and a grin and marks off a line at the bottom of the white board, writes STEVE ROGERS in large, blocky letters.

*

“Why is there a skull and crossbones flag on top of the tree house?” Tony asks. He’s sitting on the roof at the outdoor table Pepper had set up. Natasha has joined him, sunglasses on her nose and a martini in her hand. She’s wearing a dark red maxi dress, her edges always softened when Tony can’t actually see the weapons he knows she still has on her even when she's wearing a dress.

“Thor and Jane think they should get to use it when they want a little more privacy. Clint’s preparing in case he’s boarded by hostiles,” Natasha says, lips curving in an indulgent smile.

“They can take my life, but they will never take my tree house!” Clint calls, popping his head out of the trap door at the bottom, grinning maniacally. 

“Doesn’t the blood rush to his head when he does that?” Tony asks.

“I think a little extra blood flow to his brain can only be a good thing,” Natasha says and Tony chuckles. He likes Natasha’s quiet, calm company. He doesn’t feel like she’s waiting for him to break down and spill all his troubles like everyone else in the house. Even Thor only that morning had put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, telling him that he was there if Tony ever needed to talk.

Ugh.

“Screw him anyway,” Tony snaps, surprising himself.

“Clint?” Natasha asks, blinking.

“No, not... not Clint,” Tony says and Natasha just looks at him for a moment before she nods. “You know what bugs me the most?” Tony continues. “Everyone thinks I must have _done_ something, like Captain Perfect didn’t just dump my ass for no good reason. Like he’s too much of a boy scout to be a dick.”

“I don’t think he’s a dick,” Natasha says, holds up a hand when Tony just growls. “No, what he did was definitely a dick move, but Steve _isn’t_ a dick, you know that.”

“I... don’t see the difference.”

“Just think about it. There must be something going on that you don’t know about because Steve, he really...” Natasha makes a helpless gesture with her hands. “He _still_ really...”

“You gotta give me an adjective here, help me out,” Tony says, lowering his own sunglasses down his nose so he can look at Natasha over them. 

“He still wants your boo-tay!” Clint calls and Tony throws his hands up.

“How are you hearing this?”

“Clint can read lips from a distance,” Natasha says. 

“While upside down, hanging out of a tree house?” Tony says and when Natasha just shrugs Tony sighs. “I’m not sure why I was the one Fury called unstable.”

“Clint’s right, Steve still-”

“I don’t want him to just want to screw me,” Tony says, then winces because he’s not _exactly_ sure when he became a teenage girl with a dippy fantasy and a crush, but it definitely happened somewhere along the line. 

“Tony, this is Steve we’re talking about. He’s an _all in_ kind of guy.”

“Really? He seems to be _all out_ right about now. He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me.” Tony hates that he sounds so petulant. 

“Believe me when I say that he’s not exactly a picnic to be around for the rest of us,” Natasha says. 

“Hold it right there!” Clint calls and Tony cranes his neck over the roof to see Darcy on the ground, edging toward the tree house ladder. 

“I’m just-”

“I know an advance scout when I see one. Back up or I will be forced to release Eduardo.”

*

Tony Stark is Iron Man. He's had self-defense training with Black Widow and Hawkeye and he’s pretty buff if he does say so himself. None of that matters worth a damn when a guy puts a cloth over his mouth when he’s taking a piss in a restaurant bathroom.

The restaurant is a new one and Tony thinks muzzily before he hits the cold tile of the bathroom floor that he’s really going to have to mark the _completely unsatisfactory_ box on the cutesy little feedback card they’d handed him on the way in.

*

“-ony, please wake up, oh god, please, please, c’mon, please wake the hell-”

“Ow, quit shaking me,” Tony complains rolling away from the insistent hands that had been plucking at him. It feels like he’s hungover but he doesn’t remember drinking anything which is always a bad sign. 

“Hey!” There’s a sharp smack on his cheekbone and Tony sits up, so abruptly that it feels for a moment like his brain zings around in his skull like a pinball. 

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, cupping his head in his hands when the movement makes his stomach roll uncomfortably and the pain in his head increase. It’s mercifully dark wherever the hell he is. “What? I’m up, okay?”

“Tony, c’mon, stay with me here.”

“Darcy?” Tony says, opens his eyes and tries to make her out in the dim light. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I’m not, _Tony_!” she snaps, reaches out hands and grips his shoulders and he hadn’t realized that he’d been slumping forward, head growing too heavy to support and grey edging his vision. “C’mon, I need that big, beautiful brain of yours functioning.”

“Where... what happened?” Tony asks finally, not sure he likes how slurred his words are but bits and pieces are coming back. He’d been having dinner with Darcy in a little Japanese place near the mansion that was new. She’d said they had good green tea noodles and Tony had been glad to escape the weight of everyone's concern for a few hours. _You’re being a dumbass for letting him be such a dumbass_ Darcy had been telling him sagely and Tony had excused himself and-

And.

“Holy crap, where are we?”

“Hi, are you back? I really need you to be here with me right now because I am freaking the hell out. I know you’ve done the whole kidnapped thing before but it’s a first for me and-”

“Hey, Darcy, hello, take a breath,” Tony says, recognizes panic when he hears it. His vision sharpens and he let out an involuntary distressed noise when his eyes adjust enough to the poor light to see that Darcy has a big, ugly bruise just under her eye. “Christ kiddo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just...” her hands flutter to her face, fingers touch down lightly on the bruise and then flit away again. “Looks as bad as it feels, huh?”

“Wow, I feel sorry for those guys out there,” Tony says, waves a hand at the barred door he can see. “They're going to be bad guy _paste_ when the others see what they did.”

“Yeah, right,” Darcy says, smiles a little, wincing but being brave about it. She's setting aside the hysterics with an effort. “They called me Jane, why does that even happen? It’s not like we look that alike.”

“You didn’t correct them, did you?” Tony says, tries not to let his worry seep into his voice.

“No, I figured, you know, agree with whatever they say.”

“Good girl,” Tony says, feels a bit trite for saying that but when he touches a knuckle to Darcy’s other cheek, she smiles, stronger this time. “Do you know who they are?”

“No, just a bunch of dudes in masks. So cliché,” Darcy huffs, only the smallest waver in her voice now. She stands, helps Tony up and grasps him round the middle when he wobbles. She guides him over to the door of the cell they’re in and he checks it, but it’s an old iron thing, heavy and manual, not a keypad in sight, dammit. 

“Luddites,” Tony grumbles, makes a tentative circuit of the room when Darcy releases him but it's fruitless. Darcy’s starting to look pensive so he crosses back to her, folds her into his chest and smacks a kiss on top of her head. “Hey, no worries sunshine. How long was I out?”

“About three hours, I think,” Darcy says, holds her watch up and squints at it. Tony has been stripped of everything that isn’t purely clothing but Darcy still has her watch. It’s got a zebra print band, looks like a silly kid’s watch which is probably why the bad guys didn’t think to take it from her.

Amateurs.

“Hey, that doesn’t happen to be a SHIELD watch, does it?”

“Yeah, Coulson got it made for me.” Darcy says, strips it off and hands it over when Tony makes grabby hands for it.

“Oh Coulson, you beautiful, paranoid, creepy son of a bitch,” Tony chuckles, turning the watch over and popping out the back. 

“Does it do something?” Darcy asks quickly, hopeful.

“Darcy my dear, it certainly does.”

*

“I tried to give you one,” Coulson says. Tony’s letting a medic shine a light into his eyes while watching Thor press Darcy into his massive chest and snarl at anyone that comes near them. Thor might seem like a giant puppy a lot of the time but people tend to forget that he’s a pretty fierce warrior and also a bit of a hothead.

Tony never does.

“Thor, buddy, maybe you want to let the nice medical people take a look at her, huh?”

“I said-”

“Maybe if it’d been nicer,” Tony says. “You know, and wasn’t blatantly a tracking device then I might’ve accepted it.”

“You’re going to gripe about the watch being a tracking device _now_?” Coulson asks incredulously. Tony waves his own medic off when he’s done playing patient and smiles up at Coulson, never more glad to see the man. Coulson holds his stern expression for a beat before he grunts and rolls his eyes. 

When he moves away, Tony can see Steve stalking around the warehouse they’d been held in. There are busy little SHIELD agents mopping up what’s left of the bad guys. Tony feels a mean little thrill of satisfaction that some of said bad guys are actually crying while being led away, whimpering if they’re taken too close to Steve or Thor, both of whom still look a little punchy. 

“Hey, you okay?” Clint asks, dropping by Tony’s side from somewhere high up. He rests a hand on Tony’s forehead, warm and calloused and leans forward so he can peer into Tony’s eyes. Even though Tony’s been checked by the medic, he still lets Clint satisfy himself. He’s seen Clint check over Natasha after missions in a similar way and feels a small curl of warmth at Clint’s concerned expression. 

“Peachy,” Tony says. “I would have felt better blasting some of those guys through a wall myself, though.” Both their gazes swing to Darcy, still with Thor hovering protectively and now with Natasha fussing, making the medic checking her over look particularly nervous. He can see that Darcy is just repeating the words _I’m fine_ over and over again but she’s most definitely fighting tears if the way she’s chewing her lower lip is any indication.

“Could you imagine if it _had_ been Jane?” Clint says, whistles long and low. “I think Thor would have hit them so hard their descendants would be feeling it.”

Bruce comes jogging over, wearing different clothes from what Tony saw him in that morning so Tony figures the giant, ragged hole in the warehouse roof is his doing. “Hey, nice work with the demolition,” he says. 

“Thanks,” Bruce says, ducks his head then comes up smiling, relieved. “Nice work not being dead.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Tony says, pouts when Clint cuffs him upside the head. “Hey, no smacking the recently drugged guy.”

“Tony.” Steve’s not usually the most stealthy of them all, but Tony hadn’t heard him approach. 

“Hey, don’t I know you? I vaguely recall seeing you on television,” Tony says, grimaces when Steve’s face goes from open and tentative to carefully blank. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Steve says stiffly.

“What, no cuddle?”

“Tony,” Steve says his name again, this time in that Howard-pained way that Tony’s decided he hates. 

“I’m good. Held captive for a whole, what was it, three and a half hours? Much better than last time.”

“Tony-”

“I could really use a shower and a drink, plus we should get Darcy home,” Tony says quickly, over-bright.

“Yes, of course,” Steve agrees, turns and starts barking orders at the agents still flitting in and out. Tony just breathes deep, suddenly weary.

*

“We were keeping it for your birthday but I guess you deserve it now,” Tony says, handing Darcy a brightly wrapped package. Jane’s in her room with her, curled around Darcy like she wants to protect her from the world, Thor a menacing presence in the corner.

“What is... oh my god!” Darcy says and squeezes the small, plush Hulk in her arms that she unearths from the wrapping paper. It lets out a plaintive _Rarrrrr_ when she does. “A Hug-Me-Hulk,” she says, blinking rapidly and biting at her lip again.

Janes’s smiling gently and reaching for the toy when Tony says, “Er, I wouldn’t. Anyone that touches it that isn’t Darcy and _zappo_.”

“You made me a taser Hug-Me-Hulk?” Darcy exclaims, sounding truly choked up. 

“Of course,” Tony says, grins. "That's not even the best present." Tony brings forth a tablet and hands it over. Darcy looks confused until from the tablet comes JARVIS' distinct voice.

"Hello Miss Lewis."

Darcy sets aside the plush Hulk to press the tablet to her chest. "A hug-me-Jarvis?" she says, a little choked and a _lot_ impressed.

*

“You’re getting a security detail.”

Tony’s underneath his latest project, nearly brains himself on the underside of the car in surprise when Steve starts talking to his feet. 

“Tony? Did you hear me?”

“No.”

“I said-”

“Not no, I didn’t hear you, no to the security detail.”

“You can’t just say no.”

“And yet.” Tony feels Steve grip him around the ankles and tug him unceremoniously out from underneath the car. Tony sighs but lets it happen because he doesn’t really have a choice, gives Steve a very unimpressed look when he emerges instead. “I’m sorry, are we doing this now?”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Really, because I swear I heard a punchline in there somewhere,” Tony says, gets to his feet and wipes his hands off on an already oil-streaked towel slung over Butterfingers. 

“Are you done amusing yourself?”

“Not by a long shot,” Tony says, moves over to his work area, plucks up the carton of leftover Crab Rangoon that Bruce abandoned and pushes papers and tools aside until he finds a fork that looks the least sketchy.

“You’re very recognizable.” Steve’s apparently not done haranguing him. 

“I have been for most of my life, yes.”

“And without the armor you’re the easiest target-”

“Woah, hold on there-”

“Of all of us. It might not be faceless goons just looking for a payday next time. It could be Doom or Bad Hand or any one of the other dozens of our enemies that would love to cripple us.”

“This concern for my personal safety is touching, really,” Tony says around a mouthful that suddenly doesn’t taste like anything to him. 

“I _am_ concerned.”

“For the functionality of the team, yes I got that loud and clear.” Tony snaps off a mock salute with his fork, fed up with Steve just being so... _Steve_ about everything. “Look, I’m not the only one without super powers on this team.”

“Clint and Natasha can look after themselves.”

“And I _can’t_?” Steve makes a face that Tony can read easily. “No, screw you Captain Safety. You can tell me what to do in the field but that _ends_ the minute we’re off it.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“Sometimes being the leader means being an asshole,” Steve says levelly. “You might not believe this but I do care about what happens to you.” Something crosses Steve’s face, a micro-expression that sets off alarm bells because Tony’s seen it before. It’s the look Steve got just before he dumped Tony, his _I’m about to say something terrible_ face. “We were lucky those guys mistook Darcy for Jane when they grabbed you. They would’ve just killed Darcy if they’d known she wasn’t. Are you comfortable with the idea of people being collateral damage around you?” 

Tony freezes, fork halfway up to his mouth, the food he’s already forced down turning leaden in his belly. All at once he can see men and women, basically no more than _kids_ , dying around him in Afghanistan, dying while trying to protect him.

“Tony-”

“I really... you need to leave now,” Tony says tightly. 

“I know you don’t-”

“Rogers, seriously,” Tony all but snarls. “Unless the world is ending I don’t want to see your face for at least a week, at a minimum. Otherwise I might do something stupid and break my fist on it.”

Steve nods, a jerky up-down of his head and he turns, military precision in his movements. He leaves and Tony presses his hand to his chest, presses until the hard edges of the arc reactor bite into his skin.

*

“It might not be the best idea to get completely shit faced in a tree house,” Clint observes, but he’s telling Tony this _after_ they’ve consumed a decent amount of alcohol so it’s really quite moot at this point. Tony figures falling out of the tree house head first in a drunken stupor would just about sum up his life at this point anyway.

“You haven’t drunk nearly enough if you're still capable of common sense,” Darcy announces, waggling a bottle in Clint’s direction that he steals from her even though he already has a bottle in one hand and another tucked under his arm. “Hey, no fair booze hog.”

“Give the fair lady back her bottle,” Thor demands, shifting Jane gently aside enough to be able to pick up Mjolnir and point it at Clint. Thor sounds... a little unsteady which is a first. Tony didn’t think he was capable of getting drunk but he’d brought back a scary looking purple bottle from Asgard that he wouldn’t let anyone else touch and it seemed to do the trick.

Bruce’s head appears through the trapdoor in the floor. “Hey, I was wondering where everyone had gotten to,” he says, leans out of the way when Thor swings Mjolnir in his direction less in greeting and more in a drunken flailing of limbs.

“We are coating our various sorrows liberally in alcohol,” Tony announces as Natasha lends Bruce a hand up. 

“Geez, what happened?” Bruce asks, eying a big red plastic cup Darcy pours for him with a healthy amount of skepticism before setting it aside.

“You shouldn’t live with your exes,” Tony says into his own cup.

“Nat and I manage,” Clint disagrees with a shrug. 

“You guys _dated_?” Darcy squeaks, eyes going round.

“I’d call it more of an ongoing grudge match with orgasms,” Natasha says serenely and Jane, who’d just taken a sip of her drink, sprays it halfway across the room. 

“Cripeys, warn a girl,” she croaks. 

“I call bullshit anyway,” Tony says, ignores the way Natasha’s eyes narrow dangerously at him which means he must be drunker than he thought. “For one thing, Clint lives in a tree house in the backyard and not technically _with_ you.” 

Natasha gives him her, _fair point, you’ll live to see another day_ look.

“Tony, maybe-”

“No, Banner, it’s fine. He’s decided to make things as difficult as possible and I’ve decided to get drunk. It’s a perfect plan.”

“We’re here, there’s beer, get used to it!” Darcy and Jane chant in scary synchronicity.

“Look, Tony-”

“Screw him anyway,” Tony says, echoing his previous sentiment to Natasha. When no one clinks cups with him when he holds his up, he frowns. “Hey, don’t leave a guy hanging here.”

“Man, you really have to just sit down with him and talk about stuff,” Clint says, pushing Eduardo aside who’s been trying to steal his cup. “You didn’t see him when you were taken.”

“I know. He already gave me the _compromising the team with my weakness_ speech,” Tony gripes. “Our fearless leader-”

“There was a great deal of fear,” Thor interrupts. 

“Yeah, well,” Tony huffs, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. 

“Geez, I should have knocked your heads together ages ago,” Bruce says, fingers worrying at his shirt cuffs. “He didn’t want me to say anything but I just should have-”

“Banner, if you know something that’ll stop those two being dumbasses-”

“Hey!”

“-then you need to spill, right now,” Clint demands.

“What’s happening to my nice, quiet evening of drunken complaining?”

Coulson’s head appears through the trap door at that moment just as Bruce opens his mouth. “Oh god, really?” Coulson groans, probably tipped off by the smell and the general rumpledness of their appearance to what’s going on. 

“Honey bear!” Clint crows, delighted and making grabby hands at him and Coulson winces.

“Okay, who isn’t drunk?” Bruce and Natasha raise their hands. Thor looks like he’s thinking about it up until Jane smacks him. “Excellent. With me, now.”

“Ugh, I hate a cliffhanger,” Clint complains as Bruce, then Natasha slip after Coulson through the trapdoor.

*

"You lost the Hulk?" Tony's got the heel of his hands pressed into his eye sockets because it feels like his brains are trying to escape through them. He _might've_ snuck a sip of Thor's very special purple death booze and it's still not clear if he's going to _live_ to regret it.

"It happens, on occasion," Coulson says, not sounding worried which means he probably is. "When he fell out of the Helicarrier he came back... eventually."

"On a motorbike and with pilfered pants, ah yes, the good old days," Tony muses then winces because talking is making his skin hurt. "So you didn't feel the need to try and plant a tracking device on _him_ then?"

"Doctor Banner volunteered to have a sub-dermal device implanted, as a matter of fact," Coulson sniffs, then frowns. "It seems though when he... changes that we lose the signal."

"At least we can pick him up when his naked butt is stranded," Tony says. "I really have to try and figure out how to make an outfit that will survive his morphing," he adds as an after thought.

"We'd consider it a national service, if you did. There might be a medal involved."

"Well, if there's nothing I can do to assist, then I'm going to curl up and try not to die somewhere," Tony says, turns from Coulson but stops when he feels Coulson touch his shoulder. 

"Is there something wrong between you and Captain Rogers?" he asks, oh so carefully.

"Is this professional or personal curiosity?" Tony asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Believe me, it's professional. The next person who will ask you will be Director Fury. It's been very much noticed that something is decidedly... off."

"Hey, you're gonna have to talk to Rogers about that. I was all for making with the bygones."

"Something did happen then?"

"What, Barton didn't tell you?" Tony asks, surprised.

"You may not believe it about him, but Clint's discreet when it matters."

"He would've mentioned it if he thought it was affecting our field performance, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"So, let's try this again. Is this professional or personal curiosity?" Tony repeats and Coulson's eyes shift away, guilty. Tony knows Coulson is the number one Captain America fan, got all uncharacteristically un-smooth when first meeting him. He _knows_ Coulson's assumed that this is on him and he's tired of everyone assuming he's the bad guy in this scenario when for once he's the injured party, dammit. "Look-"

"You have to cut him some slack," Coulson interrupts.

"I don't _have_ to do anything. That's the beauty of being the _dumpee_ instead of the _dumper_. I reserve the right to be as maudlin and bitchy as I like."

"You don't want to do that though. You want to know why."

Tony blinks, surprised. "He told me why."

"If he gave you an explanation you believed then you would've been able to get past this. He's left you with an unsolved puzzle that's driving you insane."

"Are you going to talk to me about _closure_?" Tony asks, pained.

"I'm going to suggest that maybe you need to sit down with him and work out just what the hell his problem is. I know we've had our differences in the past... well, the present as well but you don't deserve this."

"Um... thanks?" Tony says, fights the urge to flinch away when Coulson just grins at him and claps him on the shoulder. 

"Let me know if you need help tying him down," Coulson offers, before he retreats, looking pleased with himself.

Tony's a little worried that Coulson means that literally.

*

He wants to know what the hell Bruce was going to spill about Steve before he went Hulk-WOL but he's tackled by Natasha on his way to Bruce's lab when he gets word that Bruce has slunk back. Tony's blinking up at the ceiling when Darcy's head appears in his line of vision.

"'Sup?"

"I'm not a weeble. If you knock me over I go splat," Tony complains, snorting at the hand Natasha offers him and rolling to his feet. "Is there any reason you're lurking outside Bruce's lab?"

"He's a little delicate at the moment," Natasha says, crossing her arms and managing to take up the entire hallway leading to Bruce's office which is an achievement considering how tiny she is. "He hit a kid with a car."

"He _barely grazed_ a stupid seventeen year old with a car. The guy was trying to film the fight with his phone." Darcy interjects. 

"Oh my god, is that why he disappeared?" Tony asks, making to move around Natasha but she just gives him a derisive eyebrow lift. "Oh c'mon, the last thing Bruce needs is alone time when stuff like this happens."

"He asked for a little space. I'm respecting that and so in turn are you."

"The kid was _fine_. Just a broken wrist and his phone smashed. He basically ran into the path of the thrown car anyway. I mean honestly, who hasn't accidentally hit someone with their car, huh?" Darcy snorts indelicately. 

"That's right. You ran over Thor didn't you?" Tony asks, amused.

"It was totally Jane and we didn't _run over_ him. We just kinda winged him."

"You know being alone isn't the best thing for Bruce, right?" Tony presses. At some point in the not-to-distant past, Tony probably wouldn't have given a crap. Other people's problems were just that, _their_ problems. He's more than a little startled to find himself caring.

"He knows that too. He came back here, right? Just let him poke his nose out when he's ready," Natasha says gently.

"Fine," Tony huffs.

*

"Just what the hell is this?" Tony demands, having retreated to the living room. He's staring at the sticker whiteboard and the fact that all the stickers have migrated down to Steve's line.

Clint and Coulson look up from the couch. Coulson's got a tablet on his knee and Clint's feet pressed up against his thigh. Eduardo keeps bumping against Coulson's hands, burring excitedly and Coulson nudges him away with all the patience of a tolerant parent. "I do hate non-specific questions," Coulson says.

Tony just waves a hand at the whiteboard and then notices Clint smirking into his book which means he _knows something_. Tony moves to stand in front of him, glares down at Clint until Clint sighs and sets his book aside. "You do know you're not threatening right? Not since I have Natasha as the measure against which all glaring is... measured."

"Why has everyone given their stickers to Steve? I thought I made it clear that you couldn't just do that."

"We didn't. We asked Pepper."

"She has no power over the sticker allocation," Tony snaps.

"That's where you're wrong," Coulson pipes up, surprising the hell out of Tony. For all Tony knew, Coulson had thought the whole thing ridiculous. For him to actively participate is a little disturbing. "After all, you gave her sticker power of attorney."

" _I did not_ ," Tony splutters.

Coulson leans sideways and picks up a folder from the side table, hands it over. "That's only a copy. Don't think you can rip it up."

Tony flips the folder open, sees a very legal and official looking document detailing how Pepper has the power to veto any sticker-related activities and approve sticker placement as she sees fit. 

"Man, you're just lucky Pepper's not evil. Well, not _more_ evil. Either that or you should maybe try reading what you sign once in a while," Clint muses.

"It looks like Captain Rogers has received more than enough of the required quota for you to perform some act of kindness in his general direction," Coulson adds. He's fighting a grin but it doesn't annoy Tony as much as he expected it to. Tony's honestly enjoying Coulson's gradual unwinding, likes the way it's making Clint's smiles easier in turn.

"Why are _you_ involved?" Tony demands to know, because ugh, there go his _feelings_ again.

"Clint has ways of making the ludicrous seem like a good idea," Coulson admits after a beat. "Plus, I really am loving the face you're pulling right now."

Tony just huffs. "Give me two weeks."

*

Tony likes having a project, likes working with his hands and creating something. He also likes that now he's buzzing around the house being mysterious, Steve has started _appearing_ in random places, trying to look casual about it. It's typical that when Tony decides that he needs to avoid Steve for a specific purpose, Steve decides that he's done avoiding Tony and seeks him out.

Tony tries to ignore Steve's disappointed face when his overtures are brushed aside but it's pretty hard. Natasha bails him up but doesn't actually knock him over this time when it's been a week and a half of a completely different kind of awkward between he and Steve.

"Now he's trying to talk to you, you're going to ignore him?" she demands, looking as exasperated as she ever does. "I thought you wanted to sort stuff out."

"I dooooo," Tony says, shifting guiltily. "I just... I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"You're being petty which... well, it's not really _out_ of character for you but I would have thought that you might have been the bigger man here."

"Just trust me, there's an end game."

The only person who's in on what Tony's doing is Clint which, hey look at that, he _can_ be discreet when it's important.

*

Tony's heading towards the backyard with a hammer tucked under one arm and a half-finished sandwich which might not have started life as strictly _his_ in hand when his feet leave the floor.

"What the- hey, put me down!" he demands, straining to look over his shoulder and catching blonde hair and a furrowed brow. Steve's got him gripped around the middle and is _carrying_ him towards the living room. Tony gets dumped onto one of the couches and then Steve sits opposite, looking stern. 

"We have to talk."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize just manhandling you into place was an option when you wouldn't talk to _me_ ," Tony grumbles, setting aside the sandwich he'd squished beyond salvation in his surprise and tossing the hammer onto the couch beside himself.

Steve's gaze drops and he winces. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Can we not do this right now?" Tony asks, moves to get up but Steve puts a hand out, face open and pleading.

"No, I get you're angry, I really do, and you have every right to be."

"I don't need your permission to be pissed off."

" _Of course_ not," Steve says, winces again. "That's not what I'm saying. Heck, I should have written this all down. I'm not doing this right."

"Can you please not say things like _heck_? It's really hard to stay mad at you when you do," Tony says. 

"I made a mistake," Steve blurts, quick like he's scared he'll mess up the words if he doesn't. "I was scared and selfish and only thinking how hurt I would be if you-"

"No, really," Tony interrupts. "Just, three more days. I swear we can have this conversation in three more days."

Steve stutters to a halt, blinking. "Oh, um, sure?" he says, looking wary, like maybe it's a ploy just to escape him. 

"Steve, I'm not going anywhere and neither are you," Tony says, is concerned when Steve pales at his words. 

"No, I mean yes, you're right. This can wait," Steve manages, sounding a little strangled and then he beats a hasty retreat. 

"Jarvis, I just don't get people sometimes," he says. 

"I often am of the same opinion, sir," JARVIS offers.

*

"Do we need to stage an intervention?" Darcy demands, finding Clint and Tony both bent over coffee mugs in the kitchen basically inhaling their contents the next morning. Jane's yawning, propped against Darcy's back and she shakes a not-very-threatening fist at Tony over Darcy's shoulder.

"Leave Tony alone. All will be well," Clint says in a weird, zen-master voice.

"What do you know and why haven't you told us already?" Darcy snaps, her attention thankfully shifting Clint's way.

"I know everything and I'm not telling you squat," Clint says, tweaking Darcy's nose with thumb and forefinger, but slides off his stool and backs up when Darcy brandishes her Hulk at him. "Tony, be a pal and relieve Miss Lewis there of the cute and fuzzy _weapon you gave her_."

"What makes you think I can touch it?"

"Because you're you," Clint says. 

Tony snorts but plucks the toy out of Darcy's hand. Darcy squeaks in protest when Tony says, "Yeah, okay." Eduardo appears behind Clint and he grins.

"Aha, two can play at that game!" he crows, triumphant and Darcy and Jane beat a hasty retreat, screaming laughter as Eduardo and Clint tear after them. 

Tony chuckles into his coffee cup.

*

Steve’s half into a shirt, belt slung over his shoulder and wearing only one boot with another clamped in his mouth when he skids to a halt in front of Tony at the front of the mansion two days later. “Coulson said there was an emergency-”

“No, no emergency,” Tony says, disappointed when Steve’s bare belly disappears under his hastily tugged down shirt. Tony’s missed that belly, hasn’t gotten to see it in far too long. “I just needed to show you something.”

"Coulson lied... about an emergency?" Steve asks in a small voice, almost like a kid who’s discovered there really isn't a Santa Claus.

"Hey, who knew he'd be the snake in our Garden of Eden?" Tony asks, smirking.

"You don't have to make your references that old for me to understand them," Steve grumbles.

"Right. Note to self, the Fonz is too late, the bible is too early."

“Tony,” Steve says, exasperated. He drops his boot to the ground and steps into it, crouching to tug the laces into place with short, sharp movements.

“Seriously, I have something to show you and I wasn’t sure you’d venture forth if it was me asking.”

Steve looks exasperated for a completely different reason this time. “Tony, of course I would. We’re still friends.”

“Are we? I haven’t been sure lately,” Tony says, can’t really help that last, final little dig that makes Steve cringe.

“I wanted to apologize for that but you wouldn’t...”

“Look, just come with me to the backyard, okay?”

Steve looks dubious but he follows, looks puzzled when Tony leads him out to the tree house and makes _ta da_ hands. “Tony, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing here.”

“Aw hell,” Tony grumbles, then yells, “Clint!” Clint’s head _appears_ at the top of the tree house out of thin air. “Turn the reflector panels off, geez,” Tony bawls.

“Sorry!” Clint calls back, cheeky grin in place and disembodied head a little discomforting. “Nat and I were playing hide and seek.”

“You’re playing a _game_?”

“Our hide and seek matches are epic. They require provisions and a lot of patience.”

“Just!” Tony yells again, makes _hurry it up_ windmills with his arms and Clint rolls his eyes and then his head disappears again. There’s a flash of light that’s hard to look at and then another room appears on top of the tree house. Tony grins, makes _ta da_ hands again.

“What is it?” Steve asks in wonder.

*

Steve spins in place, walks a few steps and touches gentle, reverent fingers to the the table covered with art supplies. Tony wasn’t exactly sure what to get, just raided an art supply store and figured he could order anything he’d missed.

“When did you... why did you...?” Steve doesn’t seem sure what question to ask first, just turns to Tony, at a loss, hugging an over-sized sketch book to his chest.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you,” Tony says, holds up a hand when Steve opens his mouth. “I don’t know what it is but you apologized and sometimes you just have to forgive people because you want them... in your life.” Tony swallows hard. He’s never done well with feelings, with admitting that he has them.

“I told you it was selfish,” Steve says. “I didn’t... eventually I’m going to lose you and it took me a while to realize that it didn’t matter how long we had, that whatever small measure of time would be enough, it had to be enough.”

“Why are you going to lose me?” Tony asks, startled by this admission, remembers how pale Steve had gone when he’d said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not going to get any older,” Steve says. “Bruce has been running tests, he’s ... I mean I _am_ but much, much more slowly than I should be.”

“So?”

“ _So_? Tony, I’m not getting any older but _you_ are. _Everyone_ else is. Eventually I’ll be alone.. again.”

“Steve,” Tony breathes, stricken. He’d never known this was what lay beneath, what had started making Steve think he had to pull away. He approaches, eases the sketch book out of Steve's grip and takes Steve’s face in his hands so Steve can’t duck his face away. “Every time we go out on a mission, I’m scared to death I’m going to lose _you_.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Steve says, dismissive.

“Oh really? Last time I checked you weren’t _invulnerable_. You’ve proved more than once that you go above and beyond on the self-sacrificing front. The way you throw yourself on that line you were talking about, in front of all of us...”

“Tony,” Steve says, does try to lower his face but he can’t, caged by Tony’s hands. His gaze tracks back up and there’s a hopeful smile in his eyes. “I’m pretty stupid, right?”

“What we do, every day, none of us have the greatest life expectancy but I’m not going to live my life like that and you shouldn’t either. I want you for as long as I can have you.”

Steve looks like he’s going to say something else, probably something noble and completely inappropriate, so Tony takes advantage of still having a grip on him and reels him in, stops up Steve’s mouth with his own, swallows any arguments.

*

“Where did you get the reflector panels?” Steve asks. He’s lying with his legs thrown over Tony’s, tugging a hand through Tony’s hair in a hopelessly affectionate way.

Tony’s not naive. He knows Steve is going to doubt the wisdom of what they have on occasion, will think he has to remove himself to save both of them the hurt. Tony’s used to having to fight for what he really wants and he isn’t afraid of a little hard work. Steve is definitely that, but only the things truly worth having are that infuriatingly difficult.

“They were just lying around,” Tony says. With the reflector panels activated, no one can see the small art studio on top of the tree house, but the walls are transparent from inside and they might as well be stretched out under the blue sky, birds winging overhead.

“Just lying around?” Steve asks, disbelieving.

"Lying around...had to be pried off the Helicarrier. _Tom-ay-to, to-mah-to_ ," Tony says, shrugging, grins at the feel of the floor scraping against his bare shoulders and the way the hand of Steve’s not tangled in his hair spasms against his hip.

"Tony, you can't just steal-"

"Hey, they stole tech from me first. This doesn't exactly make us even but it does make me feel better."


End file.
